


what if i asked you to stay

by binchmarner



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Free Agency, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, NHL Trade(s), Post-Trade, alexander was traded and i'm still hurting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 04:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20147779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binchmarner/pseuds/binchmarner
Summary: Alexander loves the offseason. It's a weight lifted off of his shoulders, a nice vacation from everything that comes with the regular season.Unfortunately, it's first day of free agency, and he gets a call from his agent.





	what if i asked you to stay

**Author's Note:**

> listen, i was on facetime with L and K, and L said she was still in denial about kerf being traded, and i... decidedly am still angsting about it. 
> 
> this is what happens when people _do_ things at 3 am when they should be listening to funny, happy podcasts.
> 
> enjoy.
> 
> tw// alexander has all or nothing thinking, and has a panic attack.
> 
> title from the story comes from rusty clanton's [novels.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kc5X66kFIMg)

The offseason is forgiving in ways Alexander can’t hope to describe. Sure, there’s extra training he has to do that he doesn’t need to do during the season, but Alexander thinks sex with JT without having to worry about a game the next day is better. Sleeping in with JT next to him, not having to worry about practice, not having to worry about performing for an entire stadium of people, that’s pretty nice too.

Except for the fact that Alexander’s rudely awoken by his phone buzzing over and over again at 8:30 in the fucking morning, which is less than ideal. He blinks his eyes open, turning to his nightstand to look at his phone. He has a missed call notification, but they didn’t leave a voicemail. Figuring it’s probably nothing, he turns back over. 

He looks at JT, hugging the pillow beneath his head. It’s a nice look, Alexander thinks as he burrows back under the sheets. From the moment they became a couple at the end of the 2017 season, JT has slept in his bed every night. Alexander would keep it this way if he could, JT sleeping in his bed.

He’s so immersed in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the phone ring again. What he does feel is JT sleepily hitting him in the shoulder, jerking him out of his daydream. 

“Get the fucking phone before I kick you out of your own bed,” JT says sleepily, his cheek pressed against the pillow. Alexander chuckles, and grabs his phone. He sees his agent’s name popped up on the call line.

“It’s Liz,” Alexander says, sitting up and accepting the call. “Hello?”

“Alexander, I have news for you,” she says, her voice sounding more nervous than he’d think a “_we have a contract for you to sign_” call would normally be.

“Good news or bad?” he asks, fluffing the pillow behind his back to sit against the headboard.

“A little bit of both. Listen, Alexander,” she says, and Alexander already doesn’t like where this is heading. He rests a hand on JT’s shoulder, and tries not to grip too hard. “What do you think of Toronto?”

“I think once they beat the Bruins they’ll be pretty much unstoppable in the race for the Cup, why?” he asks. He squeezes JT’s shoulder, and JT’s sitting up almost immediately.

“The good news is you’re going to be an integral part of helping them beat the Bruins,” she says, and from then it’s white noise. His heart has dropped to the floor, shattered. He drops his phone and it bounces against the mattress, and JT’s handing Alexander the phone before he can even take a second to think.

“I–what?” he asks, lost. He can’t look over to JT. He _knows_ JT heard, and Alexander can’t, he just can’t see his expression. “This better be a joke, Liz.”

“They really, _really_ wanted you in the trade for Barrie, Alexander,” she says. 

Alexander laughs, breathless and pitiful. “I’m not going to lie, I thought you were giving me a contract.”

“I am. Just… not with the Avalanche,” Liz says, trying so very hard to be the candy coated _Everything’s going to be just fine!_ version of herself when things really go to shit, and Alexander presses the heel of his palm into his eye. He won’t cry, he’ll at least wait for the call to end before he starts to cry. “That’s the bad news.”

He’s been through the hoops of a trade before, so he’s on autopilot, his brain taking over the business while his heart aches:

JT’s gone, he’s gone, he’s _gone._

He wants to pull his hair out by the end of the call, especially when she uses the cliche of _it’s just business, Alexander_ like he’s a pawn in a game, like that would do absolutely anything to make him feel better. It takes a moment for him to realize that he sort of _is,_ if he’s being honest. He’s a restricted free agent on a team without the cap space for every player they want.

Maybe he just wasn’t needed, maybe he just wasn’t good enough, maybe he–

“I just wanted to tell you before the news outlets started posting about it,” she says, and she sounds a little bit remorseful at the way Alexander’s voice is wavering with each word. 

“Thank you, Liz,” Alexander says, saying goodbye before he hangs up. 

It’s quiet in the room, in the way that he always loves when he’s trying to sleep. There’s no humming from appliances, you can barely hear the fan–but now it just feels wrong. Fake. 

Alexander thinks he hates it.

He drops his phone on his lap and like clockwork, he gets a text from Mo, from Nate, from Tyson, who’s in Vancouver with Dante.

**From Tyson:** _I’m sorry._

That single text from Tyson breaks him down, the last wall he’d tried to build up in the shitty fifteen minute conversation. He looks at JT, who’s confused, and _angry_ and maybe feeling everything Alexander wishes he could feel but Alexander just feels… numb.

“What the fuck?” JT says, gathers Alexander in his arms, and lays them back down. “What the fuck.”

“I don’t know,” Alexander says, because he can’t get the words ‘I was traded’ out of his mouth. He curls into JT, holding onto him like a vice. His heart is beating like he finished an Iron Man, and he can’t get himself to calm down. “I don’t know, I–Toronto. Fucking Toronto, of all places.”

“It’s fucked up. Alexander, it’s so fucked up, I’m sorry,” JT says, holding back just as tight. Alexander takes a shaky breath, another, and then another.

“It’s just business,” Alexander says, trying to quote Liz, trying to talk himself out of a panic attack, trying to just _feel_ before everything goes to shit. He’s going to have to tell his family, the team, though everyone probably already knows and is more upset about Brutes anyway and–

“Hey, hey, hey,” JT says, pressing a kiss to the top of Alexander’s head. “It’s allowed to hurt.”

“Fuck, it doesn’t even matter anyway. It’s still a job,” Alexander says, and he’s shutting down, he knows he’s shutting down and yet…

“It’s your dream,” JT pulls back so Alexander can look at him. Alexander rolls his eyes and scoffs, wiping the tear tracks on his cheeks. It’s such a cliche thing to be upset about, a dream. JT is his dream, Colorado is his dream. Spending the rest of his life happy in a place with his best friend is his dream. 

Hockey came and ripped that out of his hands.

“Winning the cup with you and Tyson is a dream I thought we shared,” Alexander says, trying so incredibly hard to stay angry when all he wants to do is cry. JT’s eyebrows furrow and Alexander’s heart breaks when anger doesn’t flash in JT’s eyes. It’s realization, and hurt. 

JT’s eyes are watery as he nods. “It is,” he says softly. A new wave of tears flush to Alexander, and he leans forward and presses his lips to JT’s, soft with a hint of desperation.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t leave, please,” Alexander says as he pulls back, and JT sniffs.

“Why would I ever? Why would I ever leave you, Alexander?” JT says, threading his fingers through Alexander’s hair, still long from the postseason. His hand trails from the back of Alexander’s head to his cheek and Alexander leans into it, taking his first deep breath of the morning as JT rubs soothing circles at his cheekbone.

“I’m across the country, two time zones ahead of you and we’ll see each other at most three times during the entire season,” Alexander’s eyes are shut tight because he can’t bear to look at JT. He knows that JT’s coming to the realization that they’re not meant to be together, that they’re better off as friends on different teams.

Friends that maybe get dinner when they play together, friends that don’t say _I love you_ to each other every night, friends that just… are.

“What makes you think I’d leave you for that? Besides, there's Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the bye week. We'll find time to see each other,” Alexander hears JT say, and then he feels JT’s lips pressed against his forehead, at his nose, at his cheek, and then on his mouth. “But don't worry about that right now. Stay with me for the rest of the summer, and then we’ll figure stuff out. You’re not getting rid of me just because you’re in Toronto.”

Alexander opens his eyes to see JT’s, red rimmed and teary, but his gaze determined and happy beside him. “Really?” He hates the way his voice sounds so pitiful, that he’s actually surprised JT would stick around. 

“Baby, yes,” JT says and holds Alexander close again. “Forget hockey, forget the world right now. Stay with me in bed. We’ll order food in and watch movies, and the world can wait ‘til tomorrow.”

Alexander takes a deep breath. He can do that. He can do this.

They can do this.

The world can wait until tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, they do go shopping for an apartment in toronto together.  
yes, jt is there for smashfest. they do, how you say, _smash_ after kerfy wins pro-am.  
yes, alexander spends the rest of the summer with jt and his family.  
yes, they make do, and they're really super happy, i will hear nothing less.  
if you spotted a background dante/tyson, you would be correct :D
> 
> come yell about idiots on my twitter @calemakars


End file.
